I stayed up till about 2:30, this morning, wandering around the web on a little late night tour of Santa Barbara blog country to sample what the local blogners had been bottling. There were some so-so whines online with a couple not worth uncorking, having gone to vinegar, and some sucked from the first sip, but all in all I am pleased to say that our locally grown harvest of South Coast blogs come in a variety of shades, bodies and textures to titillate a wide range of tastes.
Some blogs get better with age.
When my own world stops spinning so dizzily – don’t worry, I never drink and blog – I’ll toss a few links on my site of the ones I sip and savor. By the way, thanks for imbibing my blog, responsibly. The numbers increase daily and it is appreciated.
Undoubtedly, some people must not be getting their daily dose of scathing toxicity from their local nuclear waste dump, or their palate is rather unrefined, which is fine by me. I’m a small niche blogner and my specialty whine is an acquired taste – described as a cross between cobra spit and battery acid. Ah, last Monday’s vat of vituperation was a most acerbic vintage.
While sampling the writing wares made from our special South Coast varietals, in between sips I fired off three letters to our female representatives of California: Feinstein, Boxer and Capps. Though I enjoy venting and musing for fun and therapy on my blog, I also feel it is important to actually let the government know that I am pissed off, and not just sip or spew whine in the shadows. My regular rant and vitriolic vilification was toned back, ever so slightly, to accommodate my intended readers’ sensibilities, since they had not specifically solicited my opinion.
However, I still gave them both barrels of verbal buckshot, but adjusted the normal steel shot load downward from Double 00 Magnum to a comfortable #4. Less recoil, but less damage. It’s important to maintain a certain respect and decorum when firing lethal weapons around politicians; ask Harry Whittington. I even included a link to my last vicious post, Oligarchy, Anyone?, so they would understand my frustration. I won’t hold my breath waiting for a reply or a Blog O’ the Month award.
Yes, I am a fine whine connoisseur and as long as the Bush keeps yielding such fat dingleberries of deliciously vapid fruit, then I am compelled to stomp the bastards, squish the shit out of them and bottle the obnoxious offal into a gazillion gagging gallons of distilled horse piss to serve our imperious leaders at the eagerly anticipated Impeachment Banquet.
Jean-Jacques F’uqtard, sous chef extraordinaire for all White House catering, has leaked the menu to moi and moi, alone. Giddy guests can be expected to revel in a scrumpdillyicious spread, not to be confused with when Li’l Scooter Libby bent over for the Vice Prez.
Before you strap on the bib, however, we must say grace and – speaking of strap-ons – who better to intercede with our Heavenly Father than a man who exemplifies the Right-Wing Christian ideals our proud country faithfully follows – Reverend Ted Haggard.
Go ahead, Reverend. Uh, Reverend? Ted, could you stop taking it up the ass long enough to say grace? Some of us are hungry.
Well, we’ll skip that part.
Anyway, for starters, at the Impeachment Banquet you may munch and sip on:
- Big Dick-on-a-Stick cocktail weenies
- Rumsfeld-n-Coke poured over still undelivered FEMA ice
- Walter Reed Middle Finger Sandwiches
- Chavez’s 7 Deadly Cheeses & Crackers Satan Fondue – hot and spicy with a bit of a bite. It’ll give you heartburn, plus free heating oil.
- Tom DeLay’s Fat Cat Brats
- A wilted Katrina Relief White House Salad – better go ahead with the main entree and not wait on this.
And that’s just the first page of the White House menu. On the second page is Mark Foley doing something I shouldn’t describe here. I’ll send you a text message, later. However, if we turn to the third page, assuming you still have an appetite, you’ll find some very interesting entrees.
Mmmm, the main course offers you a choice of:
- Pork Barrel Fatback Ribs
- Plame Flambé made with Crow – a frequent item in the Capitol cafeteria.
- Lame Duck or Cooked Goose in a nice plum stupid sauce
- Alberto Gonzales Can He Beat the Fajita Wraps
- Abramoff’s Native American Stew – a select blend of venison smothered in his special Graft BBQ Sauce. It’s a little gamey with a bit of kickback.
- Bush’s Bloody Baghdad Burgers and Fuck the French Fries – his favorite, though Jean-Jacques fumes when preparing them.
- Tehran Stir the Pot Pie – watch out, this is a hot one. George keeps burning his fingers every time he touches it. Britain prefers Bangers ‘n Mash.
- Fallujah Falafels – awful, in my opinion.
- McCain’s Chicken a la King – watered down and losing popularity on the Hill.
- and Pyongyang’s Stop, Drop and Egg Rolls – just nuke ‘em and dip ‘em in sweet-n-sour sauce. Dubya hates these. They make him Kim Jong-il.
Finally, dessert . . . for you kiss-ass lobbyists with a sweet tooth. We have:
- Rush Limbaugh Shut Yer Big Fat Pie-hole
- Don Imus Nappy-Headed Ho-Ho’s
- Yer Doin’ One Heckuva Job Brownies
- Li’l Scooter Pie a la Modus Operandi
- Blair Buttered Scones slathered with How Do We Extricate the Monarchy from this Bloody Jam
- Or Ann Coulter Lemon Tart – this will make you pucker, but be careful, ladies, for afterward it’s not clear on which end to put your lipstick.
- For those on a diet, they’ll offer Condi Rice Cakes. These are as thin and tasty as her foreign policy endeavors and have caused severe indigestion, plus a few cases of scowlmonella. Try one at your own risk.
Yum yum! My mouth is watering at the sound of some of these tried and true delicacies. Though America has been force-fed this daily diet since 2000, they just never seem to get old, do they? Many other favorite dishes from the Bush Administration are available a la carte blanche, but to save internet ink, we can’t list them all, here, though I’m sure the special prosecutors will gladly read all the charges, uh, menu items, later.
Chef F’uqtard assures me that the Great Impeachment Banquet Hall will have heightened Homeland Security, since all the biggest assholes in the administration will be there. Engineers have recently installed the latest surge protection in the event of a Congressional power outage over Iraq War funding, though the neocon artists think they can weather any fluctuation in their waning power base throughout the remaining courses of this unsavory feast.
Hmm, I’m suddenly feeling a little queasy. This administration seems to do that to me. I believe I’ve lost my appetite and need to go lie down and take it from behind, some more. When I’m feeling better, I’ll come outside and play, say in late 2008. By then, the last of the Lame Duck leftovers will surely have been tossed out. Of course, we’ll need to fumigate the kitchen, burn all the White House linen and buy new silverware. I’m sure they’re going to take everything that isn’t nailed down.
Then, I’ll put my feet up and pop the cork on a kinder, gentler blog. Let’s see, what kind of blog goes with an Obama Rama Ding Dong?
The Kat
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